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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423508">his diary</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleoHoney/pseuds/KleoHoney'>KleoHoney</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18+, Anxiety, Breeding Kink, Dark fic, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealous!Steve, Misogyny, Obsession, Slight Cum Play, Tags to be added, dub-con, possessive!Steve, self-deprecating thoughts, unhealthy relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:55:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleoHoney/pseuds/KleoHoney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your life with Steve is perfect. Disgustingly so, in fact. And then it isn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dark!Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>290</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please read through the tags! After this chapter there will be a warning before every chapter so please be sure to read those before you read ahead. Thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was early evening in New York, the sun drifting lower and lower on the crowded streets. Vendors  made attempts to sell the last of their food, pigeons and rats scampering between piles of trash, but there was a familiarity to it all. Call it a comfort. However, all you could focus on was the awful traffic. </p><p>Swallowing hard, you glanced at your watch. Damn. Fifteen minutes late. You’d already sent him a text when you’d been half an hour late leaving work but your fingers itched to send another. He was a very busy man and the thought of wasting his time made you uneasy. </p><p>Leaning forward, you cleared your throat. “Um, how long till we get there?”</p><p>The driver tutted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Normally I’d say five minutes.”</p><p>“Normally?”</p><p>“This is looking like fifteen.”</p><p>Your shoulders sagged. Half an hour late? Fucking humiliating. Steve wouldn’t complain, but still. It was hardly polite.</p><p>You inched your phone from your purse and glanced at the screen. Steve had sent several texts pertaining to your whereabouts and how much longer you might be. The thought of him getting impatient and just leaving made uneasy goosebumps appear along your arms. </p><p>Dismissing the thought, you shot him another text telling him how much longer you expected to be. Steve was a patient man. In your ten months together, that much was clear. Steve Rogers was a gentleman through and through. You were lucky to call him yours. </p><p>Tonight was your monthly date night and you’d been looking forward to it for two weeks. Steve had been on a mission and you hadn’t seen him in a while, though he was always putting effort in to making time for you. You’d asked him once how he did it. It was kind of embarrassing knowing that he was turning down low-level missions just to be with you.</p><p>“If you want something badly enough then you’ll make time,” he had said, shrugging carelessly. Then he’d looked at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes, inching forward until your fronts pressed together. “And I want you very much, baby doll.”</p><p>A shiver worked its way through your body at the memory. Tugging at the edge of your dress, you tried to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You’d been in a rush when you’d left work, resorting to changing in the toilets and freshening up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. What if your lipstick was smudged? Or what if your dress didn’t suit you as much as you’d thought?</p><p>It wasn’t much. It had been on sale, actually, but you’d seen the glaring red and instantly known Steve would love it. The hem sat just above your knees, enough for it to be appropriate in public but also enough to draw Steve’s eye. Hopefully. Your blood warmed at the thought and your knees knocked together as the driver turned a corner, drawing your attention back to the present. </p><p>“Almost there,” he assured you, glancing in the mirror again. “You got a date or something?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you smiled. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”</p><p>“He’ll sure be glad to see you,” the driver winked. </p><p>Eventually he pulled up outside the restaurant, raising his eyebrows at the grandeur of it all. You knew the feeling. It overwhelmed you on a regular basis but you never mentioned it. How could you? Baby blue eyes, boyish charm and a smile that would make even Eeyore grin - Steve was not the type of man you wanted to turn down. </p><p>You paid the driver and got out, adjusting your dress and praying no one was watching from the windows. Fiddling with the strap of your bag, you walked up to the entrance and pushed the doors open wide. Instantly your eyes searched for Steve but an overeager waitress stepped into your line of vision, megawatt smile begging for tips. </p><p>“Hello! Do you have a reservation?” She asked.</p><p>“Um, I’m meeting someone,” you said, “should be under the name, uh, Rogers?”</p><p>You saw the moment she made the connection, brows shooting up. For a second you thought she might dispute you, claim you were lying and turn you away, but then she was smiling again. “Ah, right this way then, ma’am.”</p><p>You followed her through the sea of tables, trying not to look to self-conscious or uncomfortable. Either of those things were like blood in the water in places like this. Steve had done his best to integrate you into his life but you could still feel their eyes sometimes, weighing on you heavily and whispering that you weren’t worthy or that you didn’t belong.</p><p>So, despite the fact that was exactly how you felt, you forced yourself to lift your chin and at least look like you belonged. It wasn’t easy and it made you feel a little pompous but it was better than the piercing stares and the mumbling behind hands. </p><p>When you saw Steve, the intense weight on your chest dissipated instantly. Easily. Like it had never been there in the first place. You let your hands drop from the strap of your bag and smiled wide. Steve stood up and took you into his arms, squeezing you tight before tugging your bag from your shoulder and guiding you into your seat. </p><p>Apologies rushed from your mouth when he sat down opposite you. “Steve, I am so sorry. Work kept me late again and-“</p><p>“It’s okay, baby doll,” he said sympathetically, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “They take advantage of you. You’re such a hard worker.”</p><p>You gave him a wobbly smile, still feeling guilty. His words reminded you of a conversation (argument) you’d had with him a few months back when the relationship was still relatively new. You’d been late to another date because of your manager and Steve had asked why you still worked there if you clearly hated the job. That was followed up by him offering to ‘take care’ of you. In other words, you didn’t go to work and he paid for everything. </p><p>It was rare that you disputed or refused Steve but on that occasion it had been impossible not to. The relationship was still fresh and it wasn’t fair for you to rely on him like that. Steve hadn’t spoken to you for almost a full day but it snapped back to normal almost immediately. He hadn’t bought it up since but the way he was eyeing you right now suggested that he might. </p><p>You sniffed lightly, picking up the menu and carefully examining it. “Yeah, well. What can you do?”</p><p>Steve looked as if he was very much about to tell you what you could do but then the waitress reappeared. Steve rattled off his own order and yours, picking something from the menu that he knew you’d like. It was a little routine the two of you had. It was necessary, really. Half the places he took you to had fancy menus with meals that you’d never even heard of. You trusted Steve to pick you something that you liked.</p><p>The waitress vanished into the crowd and Steve turned his attention back to you. Watched you carefully. Then, “I miss you, you know?”</p><p>You melted. “I know. I miss you too.”</p><p>“I’m cutting back on missions,” he slowly said, leaning forward and squeezing your hand in his. “I’m hoping to spend more time with you. If you’re not busy with work, that is.”</p><p>Your lips thinned as you tried not to let your displeasure show on your face. “I’m not that busy.”</p><p>“I thought you might say that,” he grinned, “but I still want to spend more time with you.”</p><p>That, you could agree on. Weeks away from Steve drove you insane and made you needier than imaginable. You pictured it in your head; more dates, casual walks, relaxing on the sofa with a crappy film on. It sounded great. </p><p>“That would be nice,” you agreed.</p><p>“Which is why I want you to move in with me,” he finished. </p><p>The words hung in the air, hardly believing they’d been spoken. Your eyes fluttered but Steve’s remained calm, never straying from yours. The pressure was on and you couldn’t help but resent him a little for asking so publicly. Your table was far from any other people but you couldn’t help but worry they had overheard. </p><p>A thousand reasons to refuse instantly sprang to mind but they were combated by a million reasons to accept. Waking up in the mornings together, making breakfast, showering together. It all sounded so good and you were suddenly overwhelmed by your emotions.</p><p>“Are you sure?” It came out as a whisper, unsure and entirely pathetic. You wanted to swipe your words right from the air and stuff them back into your mouth, tucked back into the cave of self-consciousness. The place where you went to contemplate your self-worth. </p><p>“Baby doll, I’m always sure about you.”</p><p>A breath caught in your lungs and you laughed wetly, embarrassed to find tears had sprung to your eyes. “Oh, well, then. I’ll move in with you.”</p><p>Steve grinned widely, eyes alight and hands squeezing yours so tight that you could hardly feel them. “I knew you’d say yes.”</p><p>The rest of the dinner sped by. Steve inhaled his food so fast that it made you chuckle. He nudged your foot under the table with his and brought your hand up to his mouth, pretending to kiss it only to nip at your knuckle at the last second.</p><p>That’s how it always was with Steve. Playful, impulsive, not too serious even though it really was. You’d just agreed to move in with him, for heaven’s sake. But Steve had a talent of making things seem not as big of a deal as they really were. </p><p>Like that time he’d beaten the hell out of your ex-boyfriend for daring to glance at you in a crowded bar. His boss had had a field day with that one and you’d both been scolded. Or that time when he was shot but instead of visiting the medical bay he came straight to your apartment, coated in blood with a dopey smile on your face. Had tried to finger fuck you when you’d been cleaning and bandaging up the wound. </p><p>There was no time line with Steve, no ticking time bomb that made you feel the need to rush through things. That’s why you didn’t feel so bad moving in with him before it had even been a year. It was Steve and he knew what he was doing. You trusted him to take care of you. </p><p>He’d never let you down before. </p><p>🖋</p><p>The moving process was a quick one. Last time you’d moved it had taken weeks but Steve had you all set up in his home in a matter of days. Two, to be exact. It could have been one but you’d dragged your feet a little, wondering if you were really making the right decision. Good decisions were never made so quickly, were they?</p><p> Copious movers had invaded your flat and liberated you of your things. There was no time to be emotional or ponder over if you were moving too fast when all your worldly possessions were loaded up in a matter of minutes. </p><p>It was kind of embarrassing, actually, looking into the back of the van and seeing so little. Some of it was old and tatty and would doubtlessly look tacky in Steve’s place. You’d have to go through it at some point and decide what you didn’t need anymore. </p><p>Steve had dismissed the movers quickly. There wasn’t much stuff anyway so he just bought it all in himself, refusing your help on the several occasions you offered. You hovered awkwardly at first before busying yourself by going through the first few boxes, taking out stuff you needed and leaving the stuff you didn’t. Cutlery, plates and several ratty old blankets had to go. Maybe you’d donate them to charity if you got the chance. You did keep your bedding, however. If Steve went on a long mission then you’d feel more at home with your own sheets. </p><p>“Steve?” You called, poking your head from the living room. “Can I go put these on the bed?”</p><p>Steve glanced up, grinning excitedly at you. “Of course, baby doll. I want you to feel at home.”</p><p>He’d made it no secret how excited he was for you to move in with him. You were excited too, though it was mostly overshadowed by the uncertainty of being in a new place. Steve’s house wasn’t unfamiliar, you’d even spent a night or two over. Usually, though, your apartment was the chosen spot. That was where Steve crowded up your couch and you draped yourself over him, eyes glazing over as you watched TV and lazily kissed. It had been bliss. The type of memory you wanted to keep forever. </p><p>Leaving Steve to sort through the rest of your boxes, you trailed upstairs and headed straight for his bedroom. Your bedroom now. The thought made your head hazy and you giggled, hands clenching in the sheets. Finally you were feeling something other than just nerves. It was wildly motivating. </p><p>You made a quick job of changing the sheets, balling up the old ones and tossing them into the hamper in the corner of the room. Your sheets were plain but it was pleasing to see them and know that they were yours, familiar even. </p><p>Steve’s room was relatively plain, too. His whole house was. It was at odds with his personality but it made sense considering he was rarely there but you were planning on adding a thing or two. Maybe you could even get him to draw something to put in a frame for the bare hallways. </p><p>As if reading your mind, Steve appeared in the doorway. “Feel free to add whatever you like, baby doll. Want this house to be yours as much as it’s mine.”</p><p>Your blood heated a little at his words. This was the next step in the relationship and thinking  of what might come next made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Still, you forced yourself to focus. “Speaking of, how much should I pay you? For rent?”</p><p>“Not necessary, baby doll.”</p><p>“Steve,” you groaned. “This isn’t just a way for you to sneakily pay for me, is it?”</p><p>“Of course not,” he said, tone offended. “I want you here for selfish reasons, baby doll, but that isn’t one of them. Though I did come from a time when a guy had to look after his girl, I won’t force it on you.”</p><p>“I know,” you relented, stepping back to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I just - I’m just wondering if this is going a little too fast.”</p><p>“Too fast?” Steve repeated. “No, no, it isn’t. Not at all. Baby doll, we’re right on track.”</p><p>“And what track would that be?” You asked, mildly amused. </p><p>“Ours,” he simpered, “but if you want it in a more detailed manner, then we’re on track for a happy life. Dates, vacations, we’ll do it all. Anything you want.”</p><p>Nerves forgotten, you beamed up at Steve. Finding the right words to say were never an issue for him. On days where you were so torn up by anxiety he was always the one to stitch you back together. Perfection in male form. His being of another time was truly a gift. Steve grated you like no man ever had before and like no man ever would. </p><p>You were relaxed enough to allow him to pull you off the bed and into his arms. He peppered tiny kisses all over your face until you dissolved in a pile of giggles and tried to wretch yourself from his unrelenting grip. </p><p>“Careful,” he reminded you, nipping at the shell of your ear. “Wiggle like that and you’re gonna get me excited.” </p><p>You stopped abruptly, squeezing your thighs together and the dark shift in his tone. Just hearing it made you quiver and he laughed when he felt it. Captain America was America’s Golden Boy but not for you. Not in bed. There, when he was just Steve RoGers, he was filthy. Would take you apart on his fingers and tongue and thighs and cock so many times your head would spin. Golden Boy belonged to the world but Steve Rogers was yours. </p><p>And you were his. </p><p>“Wait,” you pushed his face away, dodging his kisses. “Steve. I need to unpack. I’m at work all week and I won’t have time.”</p><p>Steve had snuck some money into your purse for the transport costs of your daily commute to work. You’d made a face but he’d ignored you, stuffing in enough bills to pay for at least two months. He had the money to spare but that wasn’t the problem. </p><p>Stubbornly, you clung to your independence. Always. Steve was wearing you down on certain things but you refused to let go of anything that symbolised independence. Even things like buying your own coffee or carrying your own bag. Steve did what he could when he could but it always prickled at your pride a little. It was a dangerous but hard to kick habit. </p><p>Sometimes you wondered how you and Steve even made sense together. Treating his girl right was one of his natural habits but you fought him on it at almost every turn. Not that you won. You gave in because seeming ungrateful was the last thing you wanted to do. </p><p>That would change, though. You were living with Steve now, and he was always making the effort to not be so over-bearing. That meant you would have to make the effort to avoid pushing him away.</p><p>It shouldn’t be too hard. </p><p>“You and that job,” he said, though his voice lacked the teasing note you were so used to. He tutted. “Don’t wear yourself out, okay? Leave enough room for me.”</p><p>“Mmm,” you hummed, nuzzling into his chest. The smell of his cologne clouded your senses and he laughed when you swayed on your feet. </p><p>There would always be enough room for Steve.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><strong>Warnings</strong>: 18+, DARK fic, self-doubt, stalking, slight smut, obsessive/possessive!Steve, unhealthy relationship, future breeding kink</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first night was a little difficult. The mattress seemed lumpy and your duvet not as cuddly as it usually was. Steve’s body heat was enough to have you dancing the line between awake and sleep for most of the night. </p><p>Half way through the night, he had woken up and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you close. You’d whined a little, tried to push away, but he wasn’t having any of it. Eventually you’d drifted off, your brow damp with sweat and more than a little uncomfortable but you’d managed. </p><p>It wasn’t that you were unused to sleeping with Steve. These days he spent more time at your house than his own. No, it wasn’t Steve that was the issue. Maybe it was the house, the newness of it all. That and the new stage you’d reached in a relationship with him.</p><p>It meant something, didn’t it? Moving in? Just thinking about your relationship was enough to keep you from peaceful sleep. </p><p>It felt as if you were waiting for something. Like that moment when a rollercoaster paused before the huge drop. That. It left your stomach unsettled and your mind uneasy. </p><p>That morning the pair of you slept in. Steve had convinced you to take two days off of work to fully settle in. At first you’d argued a little but now you were glad that you had. Those boxes weren’t going to unpack themselves. </p><p>Steve had kept you in bed for the better part of it, lazily kissing and grinding to the point of soft orgasm. It had been intense. Intimate, more than you’d been before even though you’d had sex. Maybe because this time you knew it was your bed as well as Steve’s. Your home.</p><p>Our home, you tested the words on your tongue, mouthing them silently. A giggle caught in your throat. You felt silly, like a school girl with a crush on her teacher. </p><p>It felt weird being in the house without Steve. There were only the barest traces of him; an empty mug there, a pencil and notepad here. It felt lonely. You wanted to search out every piece of him you could find and curl up with them. You felt a little lost without him.</p><p>Elbow deep in boxes, you were exhausted. Steve had left a couple of hours ago, leaving you to sort through the majority of your stuff. It was that you had much, just that it was taking you a long time to get through it. Steve had made you promise to leave all the heavy stuff for him. </p><p>You eyed the heaviest box, contemplating. Wouldn’t it be nice for Steve to come back to a nice clean house? He’d been called in for a meeting with his boss and Stark; those kind of meetings never left him in a good mood. Putting all your stuff away might make him happier.</p><p>Just as you were about to pick up the box, your phone vibrated with a text. Pulling it from your back pocket, you scanned the text on screen. </p><p><strong>Stevie</strong>: Baby doll, I’ve left my diary. Do you mind bringing it for me? It should be in my office.</p><p>There was another text with an address and another saying that it was urgent. You weren’t surprised. Steve never went anywhere without his diary.</p><p>He kept most of his stuff in there. Old pictures, his list of 21st century shows, shopping lists. All the important dates. </p><p>Pushing the box aside, you stood up and stretched. You’d never been in his office before. </p><p>The stairs creaked as you ascended. The magnolia of the bare walls caught your eye. You had a few pictures that might brighten it up a little. Steve’s office was at the end of the hall, the oak door calling to you. Again, you giggled. You felt like a child on an adventure.</p><p>The door swung open easily. You inhaled sharply; the room was heavy with Steve’s cologne. It was obvious this was where he spent most of his time. Comforted, you walked all the way in. It smelt like Steve was standing right next to you.</p><p>Luckily you didn’t have to look far for his diary. It was on his desk, held open slightly by a black biro. You scooped it up, admiring the plain leather. Frayed edges caught your fingers as you turned it slightly. It looked as it it was out of a museum. It was utterly Steve and you were charmed by it. </p><p>Shutting the door behind you, you headed downstairs and grabbed your keys from the counter. There was a key for Steve’s house on there now, and you felt undeniably giddy as you locked the door. Steve’s diary fit nicely beneath your arm as you hugged it close. </p><p>You got into your car and set up the satnav. Steve had said he’d be waiting for you outside; you needed special clearance to get inside the Avenger’s Tower and you didn’t have that yet. Steve had said he’d mention it in the meeting today. </p><p>It was kind of embarrassing, thinking of them having their important superhero meeting and Steve talking about you. Endearing, too. You could heady hold it against him. </p><p>The drive wasn’t a long one, maybe forty five minutes at the most. You kept Steve’s diary in the passenger seat, glancing at it occasionally. You couldn’t lie - you were curious. That diary had been by Steve’s side longer than you had. Knew him better than you did. Was it really a crime to want to peek inside?</p><p>Even though your fingers itched to crack it open and greedily inhale all of Steve’s secrets, you kept them fixed firmly on the steering wheel. You couldn’t. It would be a breach of trust. Trust was essential in a relationship. </p><p>The alluring call of the diary easily matched that of a siren, but somehow you made it all the way to Steve’s workplace without giving in. </p><p>You followed the directions to an underground car park. You blinked at the sudden change in lighting and yelped as a car appeared out of nowhere, pulling round the corner to fast that you had to slam on the breaks. The diary slid from the seat and disappeared into the footwell. The other car was gone before you even had time to get angry.</p><p>Mumbling to yourself, you found a space and reversed in. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned into the passenger’s side to grab Steve’s diary.</p><p>It had fallen open.</p><p>“Oh,” you gasped. </p><p>There was a picture of you, glued onto the page. Biting your lip, you picked the diary up and settled it onto your lap. Brushed your fingers across your face and sighed. </p><p>You were smiling widely in the picture, looking at the person holding the camera. Your best friend from college had taken it and, looking at it now, you missed her fiercely. You hadn’t spoken to her in almost four years, now.</p><p>The thought made the smile slowly fall from your face. This picture was taken four years ago.</p><p>You’d only known Steve for one and a half. </p><p>Swallowing hard, your mind raced for an explanation. Your worry gave you the nerve to pry, and you cautiously turned the page over. How could you not? </p><p>On the next page was a list of dates. You recognised some of them and Steve had written next to them. One was your first date, another was the first night you’d slept round his. Another was - you blushed fiercely - the first night you’d had sex together. A few dates below that was the yesterday, the day you’d moved in. </p><p>This wasn’t bad. Unorthodox, yes. But Steve was a man who liked to remember things, so this didn’t seem to farfetched. </p><p>Your brows furrowed as you read further down the list. Not all the dates were recognisable. They hadn’t happened yet. There was one labeled as a date with the name of a restaurant labelled next to it. Another labelled clothes shopping. Another date. </p><p>Then, one of the latest, labeled <em>‘Baby Number One’. </em></p><p>All the blood drained from your face. Your fingers were stiff, hardly refusing to cooperate even as you forced them to turn to the next page. </p><p>More dates. Tens of them. More date nights, restaurants, holidays and a due date. There was no mistaking what this was. A few more down the list and your eyes widened. Sure enough, ‘Baby Number Two’. In that same neat handwriting you’d recognise anywhere.</p><p>It was a herculean effort to sort through your emotions. The only one you could identify was violated. Scared. First the picture and now all the dates. Babies, children, that hadn’t even been conceived yet.</p><p>A face rose unbidden in your mind. Blue eyes like Steve, hair like yours. Chubby cheeks and searching hands. Baby Number One.</p><p>A shadow passed by the driver’s window and you screamed. Steve was stood there, eyes fixated on the open diary in your lap. For a moment he was still, expression torn. You stared at each other. Someone had to make the first move.</p><p>The door handle jerked as Steve tried it. His expression was pained when he realised it was locked. “I - baby doll, please. You need to let me in. I need to talk to you.”</p><p>“What is this?” You demanded, holding up the diary.</p><p>“Let me in the car.”</p><p>
  <em>“No.”</em>
</p><p>“Shit,” Steve hissed, carding a hand through his hair. His panic was only fuelling yours and you fought to keep a calm mask over your face. </p><p>“The picture, Steve,” you pointed to it. “Where did you get this?”</p><p>For a moment, there was only silence. When he began to talk, you almost wished he would just shut up again. </p><p>“I was there that day,” he began, jerking his head at the picture. “I saw you and - and I had hope. Hope for my future because I saw the girl I wanted it to be with. Is that so terrible?”</p><p>“All these dates, Steve,” you shook your head. “This is insane.”</p><p>Tears began to fall down your face and Steve cursed, slamming his hands on the roof of your car. “No, baby doll, please don’t cry. No tears, please. Let me in, okay?”</p><p>“No,” you shivered at the intensity of his stare. “This is too much, Steve. I need time.”</p><p>You started up the car again and Steve began yanking on the door handle, banging his fists on the windows. Cracks began splintering and you cried even harder, tears obscuring your vision as you pulled out of the parking space.<br/>To your horror, Steve gave chase.</p><p>“Baby, stop!” He shouted, arms pumping by his sides. “Stop! <em>Let me in the fucking car!”</em></p><p>You didn’t stop. You merged into the traffic, glancing rapidly into the mirror to see if he had followed. Amongst cars and pedestrians, he was impossible to spot. That didn’t stop you from driving faster than you ever had before. </p><p>Some insidious, traitorous part of you whispered that you should be grateful for his attention. He was Captain America, the Golden Boy. You were just a girl, and he’d still chosen you. That counted for something, right?</p><p>Shoving the diary off of your lap, you concentrated on driving. You needed a clear head to do that, and that diary was making your mind all kids of foggy. </p><p> </p><p>🖋</p><p> </p><p>The forty five minute drive seemed like only ten and you were shaking hard when you finally pulled into the drive. You yanked the keys from the ignition and cast one last look at the diary before sliding out of the car and shutting the door. If you never saw that dairy again it would be too soon.</p><p>The boxes were where you left them, half unpacked and disorderly. You shoved as much stuff back in them and pushed them to the front door. Whatever this was, it meant that you couldn’t stay.</p><p>You laughed bitterly. And to think that you’d been afraid to betray Steve’s trust. He’d been betraying yours before you’d even met him.</p><p>You ran upstairs and began tearing your clothes from the wardrobe, stuffing them into your bags. They would be the only things you’d take with you today. The rest would have to wait. One thing was for sure; you could not come back here alone. </p><p>The sound of the front door slamming had you freezing. Hurried footsteps downstairs, hard panting. “Baby doll?”</p><p>How? You didn’t give yourself time to think, instead racing over to the bedroom door and slamming it shut. There was a lock and you clicked it shut. Not that it would do much good.</p><p>Those same footsteps headed upstairs. “I saw the boxes, baby doll. Why are you leaving me?”</p><p>“You don’t get to ask me that,” you spat, “you know why. Now leave.”</p><p>“Leave? Why?”</p><p>“I need to finish packing.”</p><p>“No, no, baby, no,” his hands slammed on the other side of the door, rattling the whole doorframe. “I have plans for us. You can’t turn your back on me now. Don’t you love me?”</p><p>You did. You did love him, but you also knew it was dangerous. You were the biggest self-critic but even you knew this was a moment where you had to love yourself more than you loved him.  </p><p>“I am leaving, Steve.”</p><p>The door flew open, slamming into the wall and leaving a sizeable dent. You screamed but then Steve was rushing forward, covering your mouth with his hand and pushing you back on the bed. You kicked wildly but they weren’t phasing him. </p><p>Steve pressed his lips into your temps and shushed you, kissing softly at your hairline. “Calm down, baby doll. Don’t want you to be upset.”</p><p>Sobs wracked through your body as you shook in his grasp. This Steve was entirely different to the one you’d been with all this time. At times you’d thought yourself too dependant on him - now it seemed as if he was depending on you and damn, that was a shock. </p><p>“Shh,” he hummed, “once you’ve calmed down we can talk. We can get this sorted out and then we’ll be right back on track.”</p><p>You shuddered and cried harder at the thought of what ‘right back on track’ might mean.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><strong>Warnings</strong>: 18+, DARK fic, dub-con, manipulation, self-doubt, stalking, smut, slight cum-play, breeding kink, unhealthy relationship, obsessed!Steve</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The warmth from the mug crept through your fingers, slowly warming your hands. You watched idly as steam rose from it, drifting up before dissipating into the air. It was a struggle to stay calm but you forced yourself to sit still, avoid eye contact. </p><p>Steve nursed his own mug, though he wasn’t nearly as interested in it as you were in yours. His eyes were staring a hole in the side of your head, the entire side of his body pressed into yours. Like he thought you might run. You resisted the urge to snort. It wasn’t like you’d get far.</p><p>You flinched when he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, fingers gripping the mug so hard that it burned. </p><p>He huffed, taking a sip from his own mug. “You need to calm down, baby doll. I can’t talk to you until you are.”</p><p>The words felt like a slap to the face. Of course he’d made it sound like you were the problem. Not all those dates and his insane planning. No, not Steve. How could Captain America possibly be in the wrong?</p><p>“I want to leave,” you insisted, shoving the mug away. Tea sloshed over the edges. “Right now.”</p><p>Steve’s gaze hardened. “Not until you hear me out. It wouldn’t be fair.”</p><p>“Fair?” You asked incredulously. “Don’t you dare talk to me about what’s fair and what isn’t. Don’t you dare.”<br/>There was a thick silence. Your chest was heaving but Steve looked calm. On the surface, at least. Speaking out against Steve was foreign and was causing an inner battle you hadn’t expected. </p><p>Steve pulled you in, cradled you in the thick bands of his arms. Cologne, familiar, wafted up your nose and you sagged into his hold. Arguing with him didn’t feel right. Leaving him didn’t feel right. </p><p>What kind of betrayal was this? He hadn’t cheated, hadn’t shown filthy pictures of you to his friends. Hadn’t been secretly married. He had been secretly planning to marry you since before you met. Loyal before you’d even spoken. What did it mean?</p><p>The diary was on the table, strewn out in all its glory. Pictures upon pictures of you - some taken by Steve but others taken long before you’d ever met. The dates (of which there were many) stuck out like a sore thumb. Details of a life that hadn’t even happened yet.</p><p>“You want to know why,” Steve said bluntly. </p><p>It wasn’t a question but you answered like it was anyway. “Yes. I have to know.”</p><p>Steve rocked on his heels, swaying the pair of you. The motion was familiar, soothing, but you didn’t let yourself relax fully. Just as you were preparing to push away and demand answers, Steve began speaking.</p><p>“After the ice,” he began, “all I wanted consistency. Back when I’d joined the army I thought I’d known what kind of I’d have. Then I became Captain America and suddenly I didn’t.”</p><p>“And then you went into the ice,” you murmured.</p><p>“And then I went into the ice,” Steve repeated. “It seemed like the world wasn’t ever going to give me what I wanted. The next step seemed to be just to take it.”</p><p>In a horrid, twisted kind of way, it made sense. Just thinking it made your gut twist but it didn’t stop the thought. </p><p>“It doesn’t work like that,” you whispered. <br/>Steve gripped you harder. “Doesn’t it?”</p><p>No, you wanted to say, it doesn’t. But the words caught in your throat and choked you until you shoved them back down, unspoken.</p><p>“Wasn’t it good, baby doll?” He cooed into your hair, pressing chaste kisses against your face. “Letting me make all the decisions? Haven’t we have a good life?”</p><p>“Yes,” you admitted. Traitor, your mind hissed.</p><p>“Imagine how good we can be in a year, maybe two,” Steve chuckled. “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll have forever with you. I know it.”</p><p>Your eyes drifted over to the diary. Maybe he did know that. Such careful planning wasn’t for nothing.</p><p>It was a task to push him away, but you made yourself do it. You took a step back. Then another. Steve’s hands twitched by his sides but his face was carefully blank. You hated it. Hated the way that he seemed like the reasonable one and you just seemed dramatic.</p><p>Your fingers twined together; a telltale sign that you were nervous. “I - I need time to think,” you repeated your earlier words. “I’ll go-“</p><p>Steve slammed his hands on the counter top. “You will not. Didn’t you hear a single thing I just said?”</p><p>You backed away, eyes fixated on the crack that had stemmed from the force of Steve’s hands on the counter. For the first time it occurred to you that this man was actually dangerous on the outside as well as the inside.</p><p>“I want consistency,” he purred, “and you’re the only one who can give it to me. These past ten months are worth more to me than my entire life. And you’d throw it all away - for what?”</p><p>Were you truly being unreasonable? You hadn’t thought so but Steve’s reaction was telling you the opposite. You took a step forward - toward him.</p><p>“That’s it, baby doll,” he encouraged, opening his arms. “I want you to remember why I make all the decisions. I’m good at it, aren’t I? Don’t you always trust me to make the best decision for you? For us?”</p><p>He grabbed your wrists, yanking you the rest of the way. “This is the right decision.” </p><p>You bit off a scream as he spun you, plastering your front to the countertops and moulding himself to your back. To your horror, you could feel the hard line of his cock pressing into your ass. You squirmed as your own body responded to it, responded to Steve as it always did. </p><p>As it always would. </p><p>You squirmed halfheartedly, torn. Steve ground his cock into the soft flesh of your ass and you moaned, pressing your forehead against the countertops to cool yourself. It was too much. Sex fuelled by raw emotion.</p><p>“You need this right now,” he told you, nipping at your neck. “Need me to fuck you, remind you of how good we are.”</p><p>Steve worked his hand between your legs, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them and your panties further down your thighs. The position was by no means comfortable but it was overshadowed by the steady throbbing of your clit.</p><p>Steve jammed his thumb against your sensitive flesh, rubbing and tweaking until he drove you over the edge into an unsteady orgasm. Your thighs shook wildly and you were openly begging. Orgasm had never come to you so fast.</p><p>Dimly, you registered the sign of him pulling down his own jeans. The sound of flesh on flesh; his hand on his cock. You mewled when he swiped his fingers through your pussy, bringing them to coat his own cock. There was no struggling now. Desperation had carved a hole in your chest and made itself at home. </p><p>Steve slid in with no resistance, his hips moulding to your ass in the first thrust. A line of drool was leaking from your mouth and Steve laughed, leaning forward to shove two fingers into your mouth. Your lips closed around them automatically and you bit down at the next thrust.</p><p>“That’s right,” he cooed, “so fucking messy for my cock. Sucking my fingers to good, baby doll. Bet you wish they were my cock, huh?”</p><p>You couldn’t answer but that didn’t deter Steve. Your eyes rolled back at his filthy words, the way the sound of your coupling echoed around the kitchen and the way your pussy was making the top of his thighs damp. If he was marking you, well, you were marking him, too.</p><p>“Baby One isn’t due to be conceived for a few weeks,” he said thoughtfully, “but some plans can change.”</p><p>You waited for the fear, the dawning horror, but it never came. Steve had you stuffed so full of cock that there was no room for thoughts outside of him. Your pussy fluttered around his cock and his pace stuttered. </p><p>“Mmm, want you to cum again,” he told you, hips slapping against your ass. He pinched your cheek to get your attention. “Cum. Gonna get you pregnant; need to make sure you’re all full.”</p><p>Steve slipped his hand beneath you, fingers strumming skilfully at your clit until you were convulsing, pinned by his body and the thrusts of his cock. Steve leaned forward, bit down at your shoulder as his thrusts became more sloppy.</p><p>His release was not quiet, Even with his mouth occupied, he was still loud. You shivered at the primality of it all, finding that you loved it. That you wanted more of it, and you wanted Steve to give it to you.<br/>“Good girl,” he praised, brushing hair from your face. “My good girl. Can’t wait to see your belly all round, full of me.”</p><p>Even after he’d released, he stayed seated inside of you, thrusting lazily even though the sensitivity of his cock made him hiss. You could feel his cum leaking out around his cock. Steve did his best to push it back in, offering the wetness leftover on his fingers to you. Slipped them inside your mouth so you could clean them.</p><p>You rested your cheek on the counter top, letting the coolness bring you back to reality. Vaguely, you registered the discomfort of paper beneath your hand; pictures from the diary that had been caught up by your wandering hands.</p><p>You recognised the top one, taken the same day as the first one you’d found. This one was dated though and confirmed your suspicions. There was another scrawl at the bottom - Steve’s of course.</p><p>Next to the date, it said ‘My Girl’. </p><p>Nestled under Steve’s weight, his cock buried so deep that you’d feel it for days, you couldn’t help but agree.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know what you think and/or come talk to me on Tumblr!! <strong>kleohoneyao3</strong></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>Please let me know what you think! Feedback is my food source and I am hungry</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>If you have any questions/want to be friends then my Tumblr is <strong> kleohoneyao3</strong></p></blockquote></div></div>
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